Any Colour You Like
by Black Jaguar12
Summary: A few vignettes about Ginny and Draco's relationship. Each can stand alone, but storylines fit together even if there are other differences.


No Quarter

Ginny apparated into her kitchen, a paper bag of groceries at each hip. Maneuvering carefully, she set the bags down on her counter and began unloading them. There was a gag birthday present for Fred and George, a stacked deck of cards. She set some new soap and shampoo on the breakfast table.

She had half turned away when she noticed a sealed note sitting ominously in front of Draco's chair. A sudden case of nerves plagued her as she set down a bag of potatoes and reached for the letter.

Apprehensively, she broke the seal. It was the Malfoy crest. She'd recognize it anywhere. Her heart sank like a stone as she read:

_Ginny-_

_I'm breaking up with you. I've found someone else and honestly, it's been a long road to hell and back._

_-Draco_

Floored, Ginny scrabbled for a chair and dropped into it. She couldn't believe it—but she could. This had been a long time coming. In every decision, he'd won every hand and she'd lost every bet. As her mother was wont to say, bad love is always bound to fail.

Realizing that she was glad to be rid of his overbearing presence, Ginny scribbled a note on the back of his thick, creamy parchment:

_If you want your things, they're on the front step._

_Ginny_

_P.S. You're a bastard and I never want to see you again._

She found her owl, Athena, perched on the back of her sofa, innocently shredding it with her talons. Ginny tied the note to the curious owl's leg and opened the nearest window.

"To Malfoy."

Athena looked at Ginny, her head tilted sideways to an alarming degree before she launched herself, folding her wings to fit through the window then gliding off. Ginny closed the window, a little harder than necessary.

She went through the small house finding anything that remotely smelled of Malfoy and putting them in trash bags. They had been together for almost a year, and Malfoy was half moved in.

She found his favorite mug, and broke it when she threw it in. There were some photos of him and the both of them, which she added to the bag. Then she went to her closet. She had a wardrobe and a vanity, so Malfoy had always used her closet. When she opened the door, she smiled. There was a treasure trove of his things to ruin.

Taking her embroidery scissors (a gift from her mother) she cut small holes into his clothes. She was especially proud of the buttons. Malfoy was very fond of his fashionable wear and she had the satisfaction of destroying something close to his heart. Well, as close as anything got, she supposed.

When she was done, she lugged three big trash bags onto the front step. Then she closed the door.

She sat at her kitchen table, a cold cup of tea and yesterday's unopened mail in front of her. She was all alone in her kitchen and all alone in her head. She'd come home to find Malfoy's things gone and another note.

She had debated not opening it, but in the end she decided to.

_Ginny, you should have known better. Haven't you ever heard the tale of the snake and the maiden? The snake kills her in the end. Because he's a snake. You might see some allusion to our relationship._

Ginny scowled. She didn't need his patronizing tone. Furiously, she lit the beautiful, expensive vellum on fire with the tip of her wand, taking great pleasure in watching his words devoured by the flames.

When she had spent her anger on Malfoy's note, she had to admit he was right. A snake would always kill. It was in his nature and his nature could not be changed. She should have seen it coming. She had been so naïve, thinking she could change him, make him see the truth and goodness. She scorned her green self. His love had meant trouble from the day they'd met.

Determinedly she vanished the ashes and repaired the slight scorch marks to her table. Then she stood up and brought her mug to the sink and poured her old tea down the drain. She was going to move on, no matter what. Her mother was always telling her about these nice boys that were related to her knitting group. She ought to contact one of them.

Draco Malfoy sat at his kitchen table in the gloom. He was all alone in his kitchen and all alone in his head. The 'someone else' he had mentioned to Ginny was gone. She'd been a one-night fling from a nightclub. At the time, he'd felt the old excitement of a new girl, potentially dangerous and definitely feral. And he'd wanted that again. He forgot why he was with Ginny.

Now, it scared him how easily he had reverted to his old state. Those letters he'd written to her, they'd been something the old Draco would say: patronizing and cruel. As his father often told him, 'Some things you can't tale back once they've been said.' But, how he wished that wasn't true.

It had all come flooding back when he'd gone to retrieve his things. He looked at them now, three black trash bags leaning against each other by the sink. He'd gone through one, to find happy pictures with cracked glass, pieces of his favorite mug that used to read: I'm really easy to get along with once you learn to worship me. Then there had been his clothes. He'd been very fond of those clothes. They had the ability to be comfortable and still make him look good.

Wearily, he picked up his mug of tea and took a sip, but it was cold. Ginny should have known better than to ever get involved with him. All he did was ruin things. He finished his cold tea and got up. It had become night and the room was almost pitch black. He thought the setting perfect for his mood.


End file.
